


The Taste of It All

by Seltzer_In_Shadow



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cooking, Cooking Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Historical References, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Good Omens, Risotto recipes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seltzer_In_Shadow/pseuds/Seltzer_In_Shadow
Summary: Aziraphale cooks for a special occasion and reminisces about his past meals with Crowley.





	The Taste of It All

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Fay_The_Gay for being such a great beta. If you're into RWBY check out the very queer and magical fic she's working on. 
> 
> Thank you all for your feed back! I love writing about these two dorks.

Aziraphale set the table. On a normal night he would have miracled this set up, but tonight everything was to be done by hand. Each piece of the dinner ritual was laid out now; one table cloth, two ironed and perfectly creased napkins, two plates and dishes each with one salad plate set gently on top, polished silverware framing the placing, and a wine glass placed above. There were candles lit in the dining room and rest of the light was dimmed to match it. A concerto was playing softly in the background. Tonight was a special night and Aziraphale was cooking to prove it. 

He remembered the first time he had tried food. Humans had always surprised him. He knew they had to eat, but he had never really thought about “taste” until he had actually experienced the multifaceted flavors of food. 

It was in Egypt, circa 1570BC, and he had performed a small miracle involving, what was it? Cattle? Sick children? Anyway what he did remember was the duck. Yes, and the beer! He hadn’t drank before that moment either. 

The duck had been baked in clay with some peppery seasoning, that had probably not been cultivated the same way since. It had been cooked to perfection, perfectly moist, and falling off the bone. The beer finished it off perfectly with it’s crisp and malty taste. Aziraphale had described it as heavenly at the time, but he knew food wasn’t heavenly at all. That’s probably why he loved it as he did, it was purely organic, earthly, human. Human’s were the sort where if they had to do something then they certainly were going to enjoy it, and flavor, good honest tasting food was their incentive. After the duck Aziraphale had eaten almost everyday.

The fun thing about being an ethereal creature, and experiencing humanity from the start, is watching what could be made into food and how tastes changed with time. Humans are a creative bunch and have tried all sorts of things; animals, fish, roots, fermenting and alcohol. Aziraphale fondly remembered them discovering dairy, which of course had lead to all sorts of cream and puddings. It were these changes that Azirapahle had watched and tasted and  
experienced wherever he went, for centuries, and occasionally he had brought Crowley along. 

Crowley liked food well enough (though he preferred drinks) yet he had always gone out to lunch and dinner when Aziraphale had asked. Despite always trying some of Aziraphle’s the demon rarely ordered his own serving. Eventually Aziraphale pick up that the demon liked being fed bites of his, mostly likely for more personal reasons, though he would have never said so at the time. He had been too shy to look Crowley in the eyes when he was at the end of his fork, giving him an all too intense but somehow temping gaze. Temptation accomplished indeed.

Their first course tonight was oysters. Fresh caught, and tasting of salt and sea. Aziraphale put on a white apron and began cleaning them off. Shucking the shells and placing each half on a serving dish filled with ice and adorned with lemon slices. This had been their first meal together, back in Rome. He remembered the look on Crowley’s face as he had shown him how to scoop the meat loose and tip back the shell. The demon had thought it amusing and was delighted by the small lengths humans went through for food. He remembered the look on Crowley’s face and seeing that look he then remembered how much he had missed the demon’s smile, how lonely it had been in a sea of human’s who didn’t understand him. They hadn’t talked about work at all, they talked about life, and oysters and art and baths and culture. Crowley understood him but they hadn’t focused on that one part they both understood, the ethereal, the inhuman. They instead remarked on all the things they together were discovering about humanity. The misunderstood, and the remarkability of it all. They were both growing closer to each other and falling in love with life on earth. 

Aziraphale took out a pot and lit the stove underneath it. He then poured in a small amount of olive oil, and placed a tab of butter in the center of the pot. Next he began to slice a few shallots and an onion. He threw those in with the melted butter, and let them sweat, eventually they began to simmer. Then he poured in the rice, waiting for it too, to shine, stirring all the while so as to not let it burn. And then finally came the broth, savory but not too bold, perfectly adding to the rest of the flavors. 

Risotto needs attention, and luckily Aziraphale knows this. He has made this dish a few times before, but usually used some sort of miracle to make it perfect. Done properly, stirring it consistently, the rice soaks in the broth and butter. The onions and shallots melt into the mixture leaving only their taste. Grated parmesan is added for a bit of sharpness, but by then it has become creamy and thick in it’s own right. He stirred and watched the pot simmer. All the while smiling, and remembering how he had obtained the recipe. 

They’d had their agreement and Azirpahle had been charged to go to Milian to do both the miracling and the tempting. It didn’t bother him though, as he had been wanting to try a particular risotto and the restaurant was located near by. The recipe was gaining popularity, and was one that didn’t use the signature saffron risotto had become known for using. It was said to be simple but perfect, and the angel had been more than intrigued. When he had arrived at the restaurant Crowley had been waiting for him at a table. Smiling like nothing else, as Aziraphale walked over wondering why on earth he had come to Milan anyway. 

“Well Angel you had mentioned the spot and I thought I’d meet you here. Seat?” 

He stood up and pulled the chair out for Aziraphale who had quietly sat and gave a nod of thanks. When the Risotto arrived Aziraphale tasted it and then offered a bit to Crowley. The demon had then ordered a whole bowl himself, something Aziraphale hadn't seen him do before. When the meal was over Crowley had asked for the chef, who by some wile or miracle had brought them the recipe card. The chef was obviously in some sort of trance and Aziraphale had been shocked but smitten with the gesture. Crowley had handed Aziraphale the card looking rather smugly at the angel.

“I suppose you’ll make better use of this. Though I may request you invite me over for dinner sometime.” 

“I suppose I will have to. As a thank you of course.” He had been blushing like anything. 

Crowley had pretended not to notice. “Right of course.” 

Aziraphale pushed the Risotto from the center of the pot to one side. The mixture pooled back to the center leaving no broth trailing behind. It was perfect. He heard a ding and the lemon chicken that had been baking was done as well. All he needed to do was tidy up the kitchen and himself. 

As the angel took off his apron and began to wash his hands he heard the music change, the concerto that had been playing in the background had switched to Queen’s “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” and he knew Crowley was home. It was his usual announcement. The song usually changing with his mood. Tonight it seemed he was feeling rather flirty. The angel changed into a nicer white suit with golden embroidery on the lapel of the jacket and a lilac bow tie (Crowley’s favorite) and waited. 

The door opened and Crowley sauntered in with flowers and a bottle of wine that had taken him far too long to pick out. He was not as familiar with whites, as he preferred reds, but white wine was the only hint he had been given about dinner. He had changed before walking in and was now wearing a slim black suit with an accent of black embroidery on the jacket, and satin trim. His pants were tight in all the right places. It was October 29th after all, he had to look sharper than ever. 

He stepped into the dinning room and took in the sight of the beautifully set table. 

“WELL Angel you really have outdone yourself! You did this all by hand didn’t you?

Aziraphale came out from the kitchen and Crowley, seeing his husband, came over and pulled him into a kiss. 

“What’s cooking good lookin?” He said this with a mock american accent and Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle despite wanting to roll his eyes more. 

“Now tell me dear how long have you been thinking that line over.” 

“Oh you know, since the very moment you said you’d be cooking for our anniversary” 

“That is very you.” His tone was loving. He wouldn’t change a thing about his husband, not even his bad jokes. 

Crowley released him, set down the bottle of wine, and with a snap of his fingers miracled the flowers into a vase. 

“So what IS for dinner Angel? It smells extraordinary.”

“Take a seat dear and I’ll show you.” Aziraphale left the demon and went to the kitchen. 

An orchestral version of “You Take My Breath Away” began to play, this time the music change was the angel’s doing 

Crowley smiled toward the kitchen and took a seat. 

It had been a nice October day. There had been no rain and the ceremony they’d had was in a small garden. It was personal and short but the act had meant everything to them. Almost 6,000 years ago to the day they had met in another garden, and exactly one year ago they had married. It was a human tradition that wasn’t necessary, nor did it make much sense for the pair of beings that had been alive since the beginning of life itself, but the ritual had felt right. It was a distinctly human affair, and with that humanity was an innate dedication to living and living together. 

The meal was finished. They had reminisced and laughed and gazed lovingly at each other all evening. They had held hands and whispered nonsense and nothings to each other. Crowley ate every bit of the meal and had especially adored the risotto. Washing up the dishes did not have to be done by hand though, and Crowley snapped them away so as to not put the act on Aziraphale. They had then moved over to their sofa, and Crowley was now resting his head on Aziraphale’s lap in what had become their evening ritual.

“I love you so very much angel. I can’t believe you agreed to marry me, though I’m certainly not complaining”

He smiled up lovingly and at peace as Azirphale stroked his head 

“I love you too Crowley. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” 

Crowley reached up for Aziraphale’s wine glass asking for a sip. 

Azirpahle gave him the glass and Crowley savored the taste of it all.


End file.
